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So they talked me into it: I am signed up with team Sub Prime for the Oyster urban adventure race on the 14th.
http://www.oysterracingseries.com/
The rational part of me knows that an all day long event exceeds my maximum exertion by about…4 hours too much. True that the Half Dome excursion was all day, but that was replete with snack stops and photo ops. But this compulsion to seek new challenges was irresistable. I’ll be honest, almost every race I’ve competed in brings me to a moment (or many) when I curse myself out and wonder "why in the hell do I do this to myself!?" I’m physically beyond my original goal, but none of this stuff has become easy, now I’ve simply learned to grit my teeth, sing to myself, and wait another 2 miles for the endorphins to kick in.
As P’s former softball league guys planned their 2nd Oyster, my ego, er, interest, was piqued.
"Come on," said MO and TK if you can do Tri’s, you can do this."
My ego shall either lead me to great glory one day or a busted head.
Last Sunday we headed out for a practice along Chrissy Field. The team e-mail read: We’ll take a short run, rollerblade, and then "bike until we get tired". I thought that was laughable, "get tired" is one of those terms open to wide interpretation!
MO and I made the best of the snails pace commute watching the Blue Angles roar over the Bay Bridge in various formations. I’d had to put up with their practice flights on Thursday, when it sounded as if downtown Sf was being air raided, and the engines zoomed and roared to the point I could not even hear the person facing me on the couch 4 feet away when she spoke.
We finally met up with teammate TK and MO’s two brothers who placed in last year’s Oyster, and the sig. other of Bro #1. After resisting the siren’s song of SHOPPING which emanated from that very beautiful Sports basement store filled with fabulous gear and toys and 300 variations of powerbars, we set off to bike. R and J navigated a "brief" jaunt up unfamiliar hills. My team mates put up with my distressingly early poop out.
"Good lord." I got off the bike. "When I can run and push faster than I can pedal it’s time to just get the hell off." No shame. I certainly make no Armstrong-ish claims about my capabilities. Bless his heart, TK is certain I am having technical diffculties. (as opposed to mere wimpiness problems)
Turns out, I am. The deraillers and chain are all jacked up and so is my bike seat and pedal stride length. This, is the payback for failing to take my bike in for a tune up despite subjecting it to several Muddybuddys and a spectacular adventure race mountain wipe out. I follow the blip of my practice mates ahead of me as we mercifully top the hills and eucalyptis groves.
Instead of relief, what follows is a hair raising jaunt through city streets that leaves me envisioning motor vehicle collisions at each intersection, and cringing away from the parked cars, waiting for someone to "door" me.
R and J want to "explore" and instead of taking the same route back down, we loop around what appears to be the abandoned Gotham Asylum, and painfully creak up another hill. I keep giving permission for MO and TK to go ahead and not wait up for me. They insist this is the speed that’s about right given the grade ‘n gravity.
"Remember when you’re little and people tell you stories about how back in the day they had to walk to school uphill BOTH ways?" TK asks, " it seems we’ve found that road!"
And then: smooth sliding roads back down to Chrissy Fields. At last. TK takes off and I start to zip along too, exhilarated and grinning like an idiot, or perhaps more like a dog out the car window as we spin through the wind and the wheels carry me into flight. It’s kind of like snowboarding in that I just have to throw out the occasional unwanted mental image of me losing all control and speed ending in disaster.
Whew. We made it! Lock up the bikes, it’s time to strap on those skates.
Too bad I have only been on in line skates exactly one time before, that was in about, oh, 1999 or so. P’s rather manic friend M refused to take "no" for an answer and we found ourselves strapped into rental gear skating in Santa Monica. After one slightly bloody knee, I was sailing smooth and cheery…what’s not to like? skates, a beach, sunny santa monica, and the company of 2 handsome Thai dudes.
My team mates watched me as I geared up in the trappings we borrowed from MO’s cousin. Sitting encircled by these graceful dudes who moved like they should play hockey, I felt like a gangly fawn staggering to its feet for the first time. (Except less cute). Here goes nothing…Hey! It’s coming back to me! Bambi lives.
I was feeling pretty spiffy, cruising along semi-gracefully and picking up speed along the Marina. We started to hit a bumpy, pocked section of road, the guys warned me to watch out, but I was OK with that.
"You’re really good for someone just doing this the second time."
"Haha. Yup, I remember it was fun. Just don’t put any obstacles or ask me to stop."
We chat about what to expect race day.
MO states that he "can’t imagine" they’d make us tackle SF city streets on blades since that was everyone’s worse event last year.
"just don’t make us go somewhere crowded or I’ll take out some pedestrians…."
WHUMP!
oof.
and with that particularly well timed comment,
I hit a crater, lost control, and slammed down on my backside about 2 inches in front of an innocent runner.
Totally mortified, I try to apologize to this woman who surely did not expect 120 lb. velocity bearing obstacles to launch themselves into her run path.
But I am actually laughing too hard to talk straight.
Once the guys realize I did not just crack my head open nor injure the runner, they start to laugh too.
"Are you trying to illustrate your point!?"
Yes. Yes, I am. that is exactly the kind of manner in which one takes out pedestrians. Wait and see if I don’t have an encore on race day.
We have concluded that I am a happy camper skating along the marina. Just don’t ask me to stop… I don’t really do that.
At this point the sun is setting and that biting, SF wind is circling. I am So thankful I had the presence of mind to pack a pair of running pants. My stomach is growling and I wonder if I will bonk from low blood sugar. My cheerios and coffee seem distant now.
We run. Headed for the golden gate bridge, until a police/ranger cruiser tells us to head back "we’re closed for the night!"
J decided we should run more, preferably up these steps into the greenery.
"Ok!"
I am amazingly happy to be running. After all those difficult to control wheeled thingamajigs, THIS is at least something I am confident about. No wheels, no pads, no guards, no helmet. Au natural, baby.
I know I am going to hurt like a mother– tomorrow, but for now, that adrenalin is serving. We run upwards, geez, this trail didn’t look so long, but now I find it twists and turns further up and up…TK complains loudly in a strangely reassuring way, mutterings I can hear from behind me in the deepening dark. I think my team mates have realized one of them should stay behind me at all times to make sure I don’t fall off a cliff or get lost, or in case they need to water me with gatorade which we also practiced.
Suddenly, the three ahead of me come tromping swiftly back down-
"Skunk!!"
We all dash down another road, at this point we are all wishing for our headlamps and yelling out ‘big rock!" or other warnings. J tells us that he fell into a ditch and injured himself,running here at night once when he jumped to avoid a car…and proceeded to walk many miles home injury and all.
By the time our little run/nature hike is over, I am so high on life I’m not hungry anymore.
I stuff in comfort food at Mel’s, chicken pot pie, longing for a giant milkshake too, but knowing that won’t fit in my tummy.
Headed home with all kinds of new sore muscles, I think of my mom asking in her usual tactful tactless way, "don’t you think you’re getting too old for this kind of stuff?" and smile to myself.
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